Shaved Ice
by kurushi
Summary: Cocoon and war loom over Oerba's horizon. It is summer, it is near the end of the school year, and Vanille knows she isn't ready for her life to change.


Written for Shinkirou as part of the 2013 Doink! Final Fantasy Exchange.

So many thanks to my beta, accidental zombie, who was utterly marvelous. Any errors that remain are mine from my last-minute tweaking.

* * *

Summer was... summer. The sun baked the old stone pavement in Oerba and turned the evenings into long, slow, golden twilights. Without the wood-smoke from winter fires, the stars sparkled brightly. There were icy poles to eat and everyone wore less clothing and thoughts turned to summer romance. Even though there were only two other girls her age in the entire village, Vanille heard so much about boys and love and dating from them that she thought she was going mad.

Who cared? Really, who cared? What did it matter if you weren't interested in the boys around you? There was nobody interesting in the village anyway and there were so many other things happening in the world. Barbeques outside at night, with the mosquitoes shying away from the citronella coils near the table. In the middle of the day, icy poles were eaten in the proper way, always with your legs hanging over the edge of a brick wall, with the valley and the world stretching out beneath you. There was the constant smell of grass and cool water on the breeze and the inevitable pain in your toes when you just couldn't be bothered to slip your shoes on for a quick run down the street to the shops…

The voices of her classmates brought Vanille out of her thoughts.

"He's so, so tall!"

Vanille sighed and put her chin in her hand. She then fiddled with her pencil as she stared out the window. School would be over in _three…_

"And his hair! You wouldn't believe how cool it is, when the wind blows..."

_Two…_

"His eyes. It's always in the eyes, you know."

_One!_ Vanille slammed her notebook closed and grinned before swinging her school bag on to her back. "Well, it's been great, but I promised Mum I'd go home right away. Chores. Seeya!"

"Oh. Right. Seeya, Vanille. So anyway, I think that knee-high boots are so..."

Vanille ran like someone had lit a fire behind her bum. Chores? As if. Any excuse, any lie, to get her away from the crazy and strange aliens that her friends had turned into. She paused at the top of a hill and to take a good look around - the garden on the roof of the school, the shadow that Cocoon cast over Gran Pulse, the highway that disappeared into the horizon beneath it - the world was beautiful and Vanille was going to get as much out of it as she could. Before she graduated, before the long empty summer holidays and adulthood became her world, and before she had to get a job or face the scary realities of life.

She was free, she was young and she was alive. It made her heart feel light. She ran downhill, laughing breathlessly, and crashed into the stone wall at the bottom corner of the road. She braced her arms against the wall, and grazed her palms as she hit it. Her laughter turned hollow the black shadow of the wall blocked the sun. She felt so cold without the sun, she shivered.

Everything in the world was changing, and nothing could stop it. War was coming. Love and sex was coming. The end of the world as she knew it. Her friends were already leaving her, moving up to the starting line. They were _ready_, and Vanille wasn't ready for anything, and she was going to be left behind, alone.

She closed her eyes, pressed her cheek against the stone, and forced herself to think about the feel of it, the shape, that moment in time. Life and the beauty of breathing in and out and existing. It stretched time out, bought her a longer stay in this in-between place. Not day, not night. Not a child, not an adult. She was safe there. She was _not_ crying.

She wiped her face clean, but back in the sun, the heat of the day still dried her tears quickly enough that her skin felt tight and prickly around her eyes. She nodded decisively, smiled brightly, and kept walking. If she went and bought a bowl of shaved ice, a big one, it would feel like it took forever to eat. She would get a window seat, to feel the sun on her back. It would be a great way to end the day.

Someone just a couple of years older than Vanille was working in the restaurant, cleaning the counter. Tall, dark hair, with the somber glare of someone earning minimum wage. It sent shivers down Vanille's spine. She smiled as brightly as she could and tilted her head, feeling rude for ordering one of the cheapest options on the menu, when this girl's income would depend on it.

"One shaved ice, with strawberry syrup please."

The tall girl smirked, scoffed a little laugh, and nodded. "That sounds about right."

Vanille opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say.

"Well, go on, sit down. I'll bring it out to you when it's done."

Vanille had been debating asking for a smaller one, in a paper cup, but the decision had been made for her. She'd meant to sit down and eat a normal one, after all. She was just having second thoughts about sitting alone in a restaurant with that tall, dark-haired girl behind the counter. Something unsettled her. Vanille fiddled with her hair, took it out of its pigtails and ran her fingers through the knots, then tied them back up. She tapped her fingers on the table and swung her legs under her chair with nervous energy.

Vanille sighed and got her homework out. From the kitchen, she could hear familiar scraping sounds. Metal. Sharp. Violent. She'd never really thought about it before, though she'd seen it at a festival when she was a kid. Her father had warned her not to let her fingers get close to the blades of the machine. Telling her that it was even more dangerous than that, done by hand.

She'd seen the tall, dark-haired girl at school. She had a weird name. Traditional. She'd always been quiet and withdrawn, and the older kids got their own room to study quietly in. The same room that Vanille's class was now in, since it was their turn to study for entrance exams.

"Here ya go, kiddo." A long, sun-tanned arm reached over her shoulder, and set a glass bowl glistening with condensation on the table before her. Strawberry syrup soaked into the flakes of ice, and some drizzled, sticky, over the edges.

"Thanks," Vanille said. She twisted in her seat to look up at the girl. Fang. That was what her name had been. Tall, solemn and sarcastic Fang. Her grandfather was a hunter and he had come in to give talks about the old times during heritage week.

"You're welcome," Fang replied. She wiped her hands on a tea-towel and tucked it into her belt. She had worn pretty normal clothing at school: jeans, shirts. But now, even though it must be impractical, she wore a sari wrapped in an odd way around her body, held down by a belt. The tail of some animal Vanille couldn't name hung from it.

Vanille's throat started to feel dry and she found she couldn't swallow. Her heart was beating faster and somehow she _couldn't stop looking_. Fang was taller and stronger than she had been at school. She looked so touched by the sun that Vanille felt her skin must radiate its warmth. And then there were these little wisps of hair that escaped from behind her ears to frame her lovely face.

When Vanille looked at her face, Fang was smirking at her.

"It's melting," Fang informed her.

'_I'm melting'_, Vanille thought in fear. It was happening. Too fast. Too soon. She didn't think she could bear to eat it, all that sugar. Her whole body, her chest, felt overcome with sweetness.

"Ah, right, sorry."

"That's all right. We're not too busy in here and you've already paid. No skin off my back."

"That's not true," Vanille protested. "You have to clean the tables, right?"

This was possibly the most stupid conversation Vanille had ever held with another human being.

Fang shrugged and the skirt of her sari slipped and shifted against her thigh. Vanille did her best not to look. She didn't do very well.

"I get paid to be here," Fang said. "It doesn't really matter how I spend my time as long as I'm working. But thanks. Not many people think about it. You'd better eat that."

Vanille laughed, awkwardly. She was sure she was blushing. The ice would cool her down, hopefully. Help her hide it.

"Thanks," she said. She turned, then felt an eerie oddness, as if Fang was still standing behind and beside her, being all tall and cool looking, where Vanille couldn't see her. When she heard receding footsteps, and caught a glimpse of Fang's turned back behind the counter, she sighed in relief. She could hear Fang flipping through the pages of a magazine.

Her ice wasn't too melted so she set about eating it. It was, as she'd suspected, way too sweet. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest. She was restless, unable to focus. She wanted to run out the door and find her friends, shout that they'd been right all along, and now she understood, and could they please talk about whether or not leather jackets made a person look cooler.

She thought about Fang in a leather jacket. Cool? Yes. But way out of character. Fang was a little too laid-back for that kind of posing.

She wanted to run down that road, dissolve into that stone wall, feel the summer sun forever, and never leave this precious part of her life. It was already starting to slowly slip through her fingers.

Her ice melted and slipped from her spoon. She bit her lip and tried to face it down with steely resolve. She didn't do very well.

"Don't force yourself," Fang whispered.

Vanille looked up. Fang was leaning over the table, cloth in hand, smirking. Raking. Confident and beautiful, and Vanille would have sold her soul to know, because you never _knew_, especially not in a village as small as Oerba.

"I... you're right. I should give up. I'm not cut out for this."

Vanille wasn't sure whether she was talking about the shaved ice, or school, or saving face as her heart ached to reach out and touch. To blurt it all out. To know.

Fang shrugged. "Nobody ever is. I was your age once, I know what it's like."

"Yeah, two years ago. You're not that much older than me, you know?"

Fang laughed and nodded, then ran a hand across her lips. "You're right, you're a real adult now. Yep."

"Don't tease me!"

Fang faked a pout. "Aw, but you're so cute when you're all frustrated."

Vanille's heart skipped a beat. Cute. Cute? Cute. She said cute. It was all over now. Vanille really was done for.

"Am not," she protested, arms crossed, to draw the moment out.

"Nah, it doesn't work when you're doing it on purpose. That kind of nervous energy has to come from the heart."

The bell on the door rang and a customer walked in.

Fang's shoulders shook and Vanille pressed fingers to her own lips. There was no helping it. They burst out laughing, shuddering with it. Fang pointed a finger at Vanille and gave her a warning glance before she composed herself and got back to work. She left the cloth behind.

After the sun had gone down, they walked around town together.

"I just don't know if I'm ready for anything. The news is talking about a war with Cocoon, and there's all this pollution, and my Dad's talking about university and finding work. I just want to scream that I need more time and then run away."

Fang sighed and nodded. "Me too. It's too easy to feel powerless in this world. Everything's too heavy. It's all fallen on us, too. My grandfather nearly cried the day that they evacuated the cities directly beneath Cocoon. He told me, it had been his generation's responsibility to prevent this, and they had failed. He blamed himself."

Vanille blinked at the tears in her eyes. "Like it's any one person or generation's fault."

"Yeah, well. When it comes down to it, someone's got to do something." Fang stared out at the dark void between the stars, where Cocoon hung in the sky.

"You sound like you're planning to take the whole thing on yourself," Vanille joked. "What, you plan on enlisting?"

"Maybe," Fang grinned and shook her head. "No, I've got other plans. I'm going to become a l'Cie."

Vanille's blood ran cold. _No. Not that. Anything but that. Not this person. Not my Fang_. It had only been a few hours, but she already felt so strongly that it had to be something special. It wasn't fair. The world was chasing at her heels, eating her future before she even knew what she wanted to reach for.

"But, how can you? L'Cie are chosen. You can't just walk in there and say, '_hey, Anima, I want to be your servant_'. No fal'Cie has chosen anyone in years, anyway."

"I don't care," Fang said. "Maybe they choose people who are ready for it. People who know they're able to bear that weight of responsibility. People who aren't afraid of dying or losing their souls."

"Or turning to crystal," Vanille whispered as a shiver ran through her. "Can you imagine that? You'd never feel warm again."

"I can," Fang said. She leaned back on the side of a building and looked down at her feet. "But it's worth it. I refuse to live to be an old lady and look back at this point in my life, only to have to tell my grandchildren that I'm sorry. Sorry that I failed to stop Cocoon, that I failed to fix what was broken."

It was noble, but that didn't help the sick feeling in Vanille's gut. "It's not right, if you do it alone, with nobody to support you."

Fang snorted. "And what, you'll tag along? You don't even know what subject to take your final exams in."

"I won't have to take them," Vanille said, reaching a decision. "If I'm a l'Cie with you, I'll probably die before I have to make _any_ decisions." It was simple, perfect, and even wonderful, in a very macabre sort of way. Frozen in time, or dead, but saved from ever having to face making a choice about her own life. She would lose all of the horrible things in life - university, war, minimum wage jobs in a dead-end village - and keep Fang. The fate of l'Cie was terrifying, but the alternative was worse.

Fang clasped both of Vanille's shoulders in her hands. "I won't let you. You're too young. You're sunshine and light and it would be _wrong_."

"Right, and what are you going to do, tell Anima not to choose me? If you're right, Anima won't choose anybody who isn't up for it. If you're not, well…" Vanille knew she'd win the argument. She stretched her arms back over her head, and skipped a few steps around in a circle. "I _can_ become a l'Cie all by myself and I don't _have_ to go with you."

"Over my dead body," Fang said darkly. "No, I have to do this alone."

"Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll just have to do it alone too, right beside you."

Fang turned and just watched Vanille for a second. All of the bluster and resolution faded from Vanille's heart as the cool night air relaxed her. She felt a little out of place, so she shrugged and laughed; she had a habit of coming across as cheerful even in the worst situations.

Whatever Fang was thinking about, she finally seemed to have reached a decision. "Fine. Even though I…if, if you're truly certain..."

Vanille nodded emphatically and grabbed Fang's hand in her own. "I am!" It felt unusual, so strange, but she really was. She would follow Fang to hell and back, to the ends of the world. She'd never felt anything truer in her life before.

Fang's skin tingled against her fingertips, and the future was still terrifying, but it was worth the risk. For both of them.


End file.
